The Cure of Roman Torchwick
by JonathanSerpico
Summary: A series of stories about Roman Torchwick, starting with his first meeting with Cinder, ending with him getting nommed. I attempt Lovecraftian themes, LOL. I still plan to continue Jaune McLovin (I might have this story take place in the same universe, we'll see how it pans out), so check that out. Cover art from A Clockwork Orange.
1. Chapter 1: Inhuman Monstrosity

Roman Torchwick knew the human mind very well. In his line of work, it was essential. People would attempt to take advantage of any situation they were in. Success came down to learning how people would attempt to take advantage of said situation and then exploiting said people. That, and making sure that it wasn't worth betraying you.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. Roman understood people. Remnant, while being a cesspit of indecency and malice, was actually a reasonable place to exist in. So long as he followed the _unwritten_ rules, Roman could lie, steal, and cheat through anything and still survive, without a doubt in his mind.

Such was his worldview when he first met that thing called Cinder.

* * *

"Restrain the customers," muttered Torchwick. Georgie, Dim, and Pete grunted and made their way through toward the three patrons of the First Haven Bank and Trust. Confident in his droogs, Torchwick strolled over to the singular teller and casually, in one fluid motion, hooked both the teller's wrists and held them over her head.

"Do you have any idea how easy this place is to rob at this time of night Miss..." Torchwick peered at the name tag of the terrified worker. "...Night? Miss Night?" Torchwick chuckled as she whimpered. "Don't worry. I don't _plan_ on hurting you tonight. You can thank your lucky stars for that, Miss Night, ha haa.." Torchwick chuckled at his terrible joke. Miss Nights eyes widened even further as she screamed and started pulling away.

"Easy, EASY, starry eyes, I said I wasn't going to hurt you. I don't even need the _bank's_ money. You might not know this, but your boss..." Torchwick vaulted over the counter and twisted the wrists of Miss Night until she and Torchwick were both facing the wall behind the counter. "...has a deal going with Sienna Khan" Roman popped open a secret panel in the wall and entered a 16 digit password.

"Please, just please let me go, she's going to kill me!" By now, Miss Night was shaking so uncontrollably, her words were chattering within her mouth.

"I said I don't plan on hurting you. But seriously, look at all that your boss has been hiding from you." Torchwick indicated a sizable sub-vault full of lien, dust, and scrolls. "Sienna Khan put at least half of his eggs in one basket. Now, this fox is going to have an omelet." " ** _AAUGHHH!_** " shrieked Miss Night. "Okay, what is it now-w-wah..." Torchwick's words trailed off. Right next to him, the woman that Pete should have been guarding, had her had reached around from behind and was covering Miss Night's face, while her other hand pressed against Miss Night's back. As the mysterious bank patron's dress and ashen black hair swayed slightly from the air-vents, she turned, made eye contact with Roman, and smiled maliciously.

Holding Torchwick's gaze, the stranger's fingers seemed to heat up as her fingers sank into Miss Night's sizzling eye sockets like a grotesque bowling ball. Within seconds, Miss Night's hands, previously caught in the hook of Melodic Cudgel, detached as they ignited into ashes. A sense of surreal horror and primal fear pervaded Torchwick's mind as he stood petrified before the monster's eyes. It may have been minutes, or even hours before he managed to speak.

"S-So, are you here for Sienna Khan's stash as well?" The ashen haired monster tilted her head and paused before responding "I suppose...in a manner of speaking," all the while retaining her unsettling smirk.

After another pause, Roman asked, afraid to hear the answer, asked "A-and my droogs?" Slowly, without speaking a word, the monster raised an ash-covered hand and held it out, reaching his chest in what can only be described as a menacing caress. "Well," the monster whispered, "I'd say that right now, they're very, _very_ close to your heart." With the gentlest of pressure on his collarbone, she lowered him until his face was two feet beneath hers.

After smirking some more, the monster suddenly stood up and turned around. Not waiting to see what happened next, Torchwick sprang to his feet and leaped over the counter. As he passed three ash heaps that remained of Georgie, Dim, and Pete, a wave of nausea rolled over him. Struggling not to vomit, he stumbled past and made his way to his Bullhead. Taking off, he started at a loud explosion. The blast rocked his ship, and as he squinted through the flashes of flame and smoke, he saw a single figure sway out of the bank. It almost appeared as though she expended an amused glance his way. Shivering, he sped as fast as he could to the nearest safe house.

* * *

Roman sat on his bed, rocking back and forth, clutching his chest. When he realized he was gripping the remains of Georgie, Dim, and Pete, he tore off his coat and threw it on the ground. With a clatter, something fell out of his pocket. Bending down to pick it up, he suddenly realized he wasn't alone in the room. Jumping backwards, he realized the monster from the bank was in his safe house.

"Hello Roman," the woman spoke softly. "I apologize for interrupting your grieving. Should I have come at another time?"

Roman froze. Something in his gut told him that if he asked to be alone, he would wind up another ash-smudge on his otherwise white coat. "N-n-no. My droogs didn't mean that much to me." He cleared his throat. "What can I do for you?"

The woman waited before answering him. "My name is Cinder Fall. In the future, I will have need of your services. As of right now you are, as you would say, my droog." Roman could feel his world slipping away. "I will be assuming direct control over the assets of your criminal organization." Leaning in, Cinder brought her hand up to the side of Torchwick's face. "You wouldn't deny me on this now would you Roman?" Slowly, she brought her fingers across his face and gently pushed on his eyelids. "I would be ever so... _dissapointed_ in you if you refused me," she breathed in his ear.

Roman swallowed. Just barely, he was able to whisper "I'll help you."

Cinder eased the pressure on Roman's eyelids. "Good," she said. "You will be notified when you are needed."

 _I'll survive,_ thought Torchwick. _I'll survive no matter what._

* * *

 **I want to try leading this up to where Roman gets nommed. I see Torchwick as a character in a Lovecraft story, one with themes of one's own insignifigance as the world falls away around them, after witnessing the monster incomprehensible... I might leave it at this though, unless people say otherwise. Anyways, leave me feedback in a review.**


	2. Chapter 2: Cobblestones for gods

**I looked at the first chapter of this and I almost wept for how disjointed it felt to me. The ending feels so rushed that if it were any faster, it would be going backward in time. The name of this chapter, "Ashes" comes from a short story by H.P. Lovecraft and C.M. Eddy Jr. written March 1924. That story is about a creepy scientist who develops a biological weapon that turns people to ash, his smokin' hot secretary, and his lab assistant. There is some hot sex, people disappearing, paranoia... and I personally haven't read it. Anyway, hopefully this turns out better (I doubt it).**

* * *

When Roman woke up at 6:30, a wave of vertigo rolled over him as last night's events surfaced from the back of his mind, inescapable, unforgiving, seizing, stifling, oppressing, gripping, indifferent to any preferred reality he tried to conjure up. Stumbling out of bed, he staggered his feet, trying to shake the feeling of phantom pressure in the places where the monster had touched him. Slowly, he became aware that the television set was turned on. As Roman turned toward the set, he felt a humming, buzzing noise leaving his head leaving him with a sense of clarity that was not quite welcome either.

Azure Athoth, the morning reporter, droned monotonically about a terror attack by the White Fang at a bank the previous night. " _Authorities are still unclear as to the motives behind the latest in this recent string of incendiary attacks, but there have been thoughts among the academic community that this may be an attempt to draw Grimm closer to th-_ " *click*

Roman had heard enough. Remaining where he was would be bad for business, not to mention an exercise in unnecessary self-endangerment. It was time for a tactical retreat, preferably to a different continent. First, he would need to acquire transportation, and for that he would need Lien. Reaching for his hat, coat, and weapon, he swept toward the stairwell in great stride. As he ascended, he suddenly had another wave of vertigo wash over him. Stumbling up the stairs, he heard behind him an additional step, following him and stopping short of reaching him.

Stiffly, Torchwick slowly turned around. The empty stairwell behind him seemed to stretch forever, like the gaping maw of some subterranean god, with flickering fluorescent tongues tasting the ceiling. Down on the landing behind him, shallow breaths seemed to follow.

Turning his back, Roman resumed his upwards procession. Then, suddenly swinging his weapon like a golf club, he sent the handle down the stair case. Quickly reeling it in, an exclamation came from down the steps as a green haired teenager flickered into view, knocking her head against the steps. Suddenly, Roman's sense of vertigo vanished, as the young intruder rolled back and forth, clutching her skull.

"You know, for somebody so intent on hiding your presence, you certainly have a.. _conspicuous_ appearance," Roman dryly intoned. "I mean, seriously? One look and anybody would be able to identify you as the only red-eyed. green-haired, dark-skinned girl with chaps and cleavage within the continent." Frowning, he reached down and lifted her by her jaw, slamming her against the wall. "You realize that when a monster asks you to keep tabs on somebody, it is generally bad form to let the person know you're there."

"C-Cinder's not a monster!" spat the young intruder.

"So it _was_ you with her, back at the bank last night," he verified. Torchwick's prisoner just glared down his arm. He sighed. "Well, your infatuation with that thing is understandable. You are at that age where the demonic and Grimm seem somehow attractive, even seductive. I suppose wanting to be noticed by your inhuman crush will cause you to dress and look a certain way for her-HEYOH!" Dodging her kick, he laid her flat with a jab to the gut. "Kid," he told the unconscious girl, "don't be an animal." He hesitated, then kicked her twice in the ribs, hard. "That's better."

Coming to the roof, Roman started pulling the camouflage debris off his bullhead. "Just got to get to Vale," he muttered. Thieves, he could understand. Assassins, he could understand. Even terrorists, he could understand, if not on an ideological level, at least enough to exploit them. But there had been something in that monster's eye last night, like the illuminating torch prophesying the return of a hungry eldritch god indifferent to the distinction between civilization and the world of Grimm. It was something monolithic and yet organic, immovable and yet moving.

As incomprehensibly inhuman this "Cinder" was, the part that disturbed Roman the most was the effect that monster's eyes had. Upon reflection, it couldn't be considered a "gaze." A gaze, a glance, a look, a stare, all these things implied something that could be given and returned. "Come on..." As Roman pulled the last of the camouflage off of the bullhead, he felt a breath on the back of his neck, and a black nailed hand reached over his right shoulder, gently yet forcibly gripping his face. _Oh, for fu-_ As Torchwick was swung around in a wide arc, his thoughts were interrupted when his back slammed down against the building's roof, giving him a clear view of the amused smirk of that monster with hellfire in her eyes.

"Do you think me a monster, Roman?" As she spoke, she moved her fingers and thumbs to Torchwick's eyes, catching his lids and holding them open, forcing him to stare back at that unfeeling, indifferent, yet coldly amused visage.

"Wha-No-Nonononoo...ah-heh-heh..." sputtered Torchwick nervously. "I mean, when you think about it, what does it even mean to be a monster **anyw _AYNGH_**!" Where she had his eyelids hooked on her fingertips, a steady heat started to radiate into his sockets. Gripping his face more firmly, she barely whispered in his ear "Would you like me to tell you the difference between monsters and men?" She paused as Torchwick squirmed in her unnatural grip. "Power, and Fate." Stars began to dance behind Torchwick's eyes. As the pain gradually increased, it was all he could do to remain conscious. "When you look at Remnant, it is not the Humans or the Faunus who rule. It is those who reject the tenants of humanity and the inherent weakness that comes with it." She paused, releasing his eyelids. With a gasp, Roman hit the back of his head on the roof.

"You see Roman," she continued, "a monster is something stronger than you that you cannot manipulate, exploit, or...escape from." As she said this, her eyes drifted over to the bullhead. "I'm disappointed in you, Roman. I thought I saw a kindred spirit in your eyes. A desire for power to match my own. But you simply wish to entrench yourself in humanity, not transcend it."

 _Oh come on. I'm just a guy with a talent for reading people, in addition to a penchant for organized crime. Why am I supposed to impress the personification of cosmic avarice?_ Torchwick held his breath as she rose and walked toward the bullhead. "You have a network and assets available to you in Vale, correct." It was an less of a question than a statement.

"Yes... I-" "Excellent. Get up." Torchwick rose shakily, trying to ignore his seared eyelids. "We're going to Vale," she said, suddenly sounding bored. "You can come with or..." a flame danced between her fingers. A shiver ran up Torchwick's spine, and he sighed in exasperation. "Fine then, _boss_. What exactly will I be doing for you in Vale?"

A smile slipped back on to Cinder's disinterested expression. Pausing, she turned towards him. "Oh, Roman. You'll know what you need to know, when you need to know." Roman began to object, but Cinder cut him off. "Enough. Go fetch Emerald. I will be waiting in the bullhead for you. We leave Mistral in an 15 minutes."

Reaching for his cane, Torchwick asked, "You mean the girl from downstairs?" _Damn it._

Ignoring him, Cinder opened the Bullhead door. "Mercury, go make sure our new friend doesn't run off while retrieving Emerald. We just had an... _intimate_ encounter and he might be feeling a little skittish at the moment." A bored teenager with grey hair hopped out. "On it," he droned. He met Torchwick's eyes. "Alright. Let's go get her."

As they made their way down the stairs, Roman broke the silence. "So... this Emerald is here because she wants nothing more than to hear 'good girl' from her unrequited crush. How do you fit in here?" Mercury considered for a moment. "Well," he deadpanned, "I figure that if I can piss off Emerald enough while she's getting snubbed by Cinder, she might sleep with me out of sexual frustration."

Torchwick blinked, forgetting the burns Cinder left on his eyelids. Even while gritting his teeth at the pain, he could not help but chuckle."So in the end, nobody is going to get what they want." Mercury raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Mercury asked. "Oh, would you look at that. Street rat is waking up," Roman non-sequitured as a stirring Emerald got up, clutching her sides where Roman had kicked her. "Wha-ow!" Roman poked her bruises with the tip of his cane. "Get up. Your boss sent your babysitter and I to retrieve your incompetent self."

"Babysitter?" "Incompetent? I'm helpful to Cinder-aaAHGH!" Roman dug his weapon in a little deeper. "No, you're not. Anything you can do, be it dusting somebody, or be it theft, she can do herself." He eased up on his cane. "Look," he sighed, "the two of you, me included, are just convenient, disposable stepping stones for a psychopath who rejected her humanity for the pursuit of power." Mercury and Emerald continued to glare at him. Roman sighed in resignation. "Fine. I'll be waiting for you two upstairs."

* * *

 **This took a while to make, probably longer than it needed to. In up and coming chapters, I intend to have Roman meet Neo at Kuroyuri where there is some sort of Lord of the Flies Grimm worshiping cult going on. And again, I am failing at Lovecraftian themes.**


	3. Chapter 3: The First Fall

**Cinder's character is perfect for kabedon and ago-kui. For those who don't know, it is a strange fetish that Japanese pop culture put a name to. Kabedon refers to slamming your hand against the wall while your lover/unwilling partner is backed up against the wall. Ago-kui refers the act of taking your lover/unwilling partner by the chin and holding it so that the two look into each other's eyes. Generally, ago-kui is done like an underhand pitch in softball, so that your index and middle finger caress the underside of the chin while the thumb presses and directs the front of the chin.**

 **Both I suppose could be kind of intimate and romantic in a serious relationship, but in most other circumstances it seems kind of like it might come across as rapey. The reason I see these mannerisms perfect for Cinder is because while she exudes sexuality, uses and takes advantage of her sexuality, and is definitely very rapey, she never once came across to me as interested in it as recreation or for romantic pursuits.**

 **For Cinder, everything is either a tool, an obstacle, or tangential to her endgame. Her endgame is the amassing of power. She will be seductive when she needs to be, and takes pride in doing it very well, but once she secures what she wanted, or makes somebody dependent upon her, he becomes indifferent in the interests of efficiency, putting in the minimum required attention to maintain power over her assets (like how she doesn't need to pay attention to Emerald because Emerald is dependent on Cinder).**

 **I find Cinder's relationship with Torchwick to be interesting because he is one of the few characters under Cinder's power that is both aware of her manipulation, does not like it, but most of all, does not like the parts of himself that actually respond to Cinder's advances. It contrasts with Emerald's blind dependence, Mercury's...(I'm pretty sure that Mercury's motivations are keeping the first semblance of structure he had after his abusive father combined with holding out for a sexually frustrated Emerald), and as far as Neo goes, that will be covered in the next chapter in I don't know, one and a half years or something.**

* * *

The malice hanging in the bullhead as Torchwick piloted Cinder, Mercury, and Emerald could be nearly felt physically. The only one seemingly unaffected was Cinder, swaying and humming as she surveyed the passing forest beneath them. Roman winced as his blistered eyelids slowly regenerated from his aura. Softly, Cinder commanded "Slow down and circle around here. Mercury, take the helm."

"Sure, fine, leave my personal airship in the capable nonexistent limbs of a disabled child. At least I don't have to rely on some street rat whose semblance literally impairs the vision of those surrounding her." Mercury scowled as Torchwick spun up out of his seat, clapping him on the back. "Be sure not to scratch the paint job, kid. I _just_ got it detailed last week. So, boss, what can I do for you?" As Torchwick gave his most insincere smirk to Cinder, Emerald tutted out of annoyance.

Matching his insincerity with inhuman inscrutability, Cinder's mouth curved into what should have been a smile on the face of any other human, but on her merely gave the impression of some ravenous deity, or the fissure that forms before magma spills from a mountain. "A certain tribe of Remnant's inhabitants raise their young by sending their children to a hidden village until they come of age."

"Sounds unnecessary, complicated, and stupid. Who would.. aw no, are these bandits? Is this that place where they raise their spawn?" Roman's face twitched in disgust. "Uggh..." Leaning his back against the port side of the ship, Torchwick looked down and covered his face with his right hand, holding his cane in the other.

"Is something wrong, Roman?" asked Cinder softly.

"Oh, _no_ , I've always wanted to work with a bunch of inbred hicks, entertain their brats, and team up to fleece chump change from neighboring backwoods yokels who thought forming primitive settlement between bandits and a forest of Grimm was ever a good idea!" Roman rolled his eyes at the ceiling while vaguely gesturing with his empty right hand.

Slowly, Cinder swayed to Roman and leaned her left hand against the wall by his empty right hand, effectively restricting his movement. After a moment of holding her gaze, Torchwick uneasily broke eye contact, glancing away to the weapon in his left hand. Smoothly, Cinder's free right hand reached and squeezed the back of Torchwick's left hand as he protectively readjusted his protective grip on the curved, creamily-painted head of his lengthy, flexibly rigid, smooth yet occasionally ribbed with veiny red, explosively destructive tool.

Cinder pressed and rotated Torchwick's gloved hand, polishing the curved head of his long stick. Numbly, Torchwick got the notion that there was something alive, something vibrating in that hand as sweat formed behind his ears. For moments that seemed like years, the vibrating and stroking sped up, until it came to a sudden stop, sending a shiver up Torchwick's spine. As he shivered, the sweat fell from his earlobe onto his jacket. Roman's eyes followed as she slowly brushed her right hand up his left sleeve until she was gently holding his chin with her thumb and index finger.

Directing his eyes down to her own, she breathed on him and, as imposingly soft as before, whispered "Fortunately for you, this is not a collaborative mission. The objective is the elimination of the...spawn, as you refer to them. The bandits themselves live separately from their young." She paused indulgently, pulling Torchwick's chin downward so that he had to arch his neck. With her face just inches from his, she breathed " _Your_ job is to render it devoid of life and assets by the time we leave for Vale." Her breath had a sweet, cloying scent, like the incense of burning flowers, or that of rotting flesh.

"And... how long will that...take..." Roman involuntarily shrank away from the presence in front of him. Sighing, Cinder tutted condescendingly. "Haven't I told you yet Roman? You'll know what you need to know when you need know." Withdrawing, Cinder swayed over to the control panel and opened the door. As air rushed into the Bullhead, Torchwick realized he had been holding his breath. Feeling the breath he had being forcibly stolen by the drop in air pressure, Roman called "Wait, what about the landing? At least let me grab my parachu-"

In a flash of fire, Cinder rapidly closed the gap between them. Lifting her left leg, she expertly pivoted and delivered a roundhouse kick to Torchwick, launching him out the open door. After a pause, she slowly lowered her left foot back to the floor, while Emerald and Mercury watched respectively differing degrees of transfixed interest.

"No," Cinder delivered a delayed denial in a dry, dictatorially decisive tone. "You will be using your own landing strategy."

* * *

 **Sorry for the update delays. If you liked this then go ahead and set up alerts on your FanFiction account for this story. If you didn't, then go read a story with regular updates like Smoldering Rose by _SnowieBearSnarl_ or  Professor Arc by _Coeur Al'Aran_. They are both great.**

 **To clarify, Torchwick's lengthy, flexibly rigid, smooth yet occasionally ribbed with veiny red, explosively destructive tool is Melodic Cudgel. While I may occasionally name the weapons in my fics, I really don't like to use their names unless they happen in the show proper. Also, writing highly suggestive subtext is one of the funniest things ever.**

 **I once read a poem in high school called "masher." It was literally just a description of a potato masher, but every detail was so sexualized that it also could describe a phallus. It was hilarious.**

 **To me, the chemistry between Cinder and Torchwick is like if Torchwick were an audience member who was strapped down to a chair being forced to watch Cinder's acting, but he is able to see through it. Cinder, in turn, is aware that Torchwick can see through her act, but it just amuses her. Consequently, she overacts, almost to mock how he can't get away from her.**

 **This concept of Roman Torchwick being a literal captive audience to an act reflects the basis of his character design. Alex from "A Clockwork Orange" was strapped down to a chair with his eyelids forced open as he was made to watch violent acts on a screen while being treated with a nausea inducing drug in order to rehabilitate him into society. One of the side effects this treatment had on him was he lost his ability to enjoy Ludwig Von Beethoven, his favorite composer.**

 **The Cure of Roman Torchwick is something I plan to vaguely reflect Alex's journey from street punk to being brainwashed into a respectable member of society, while at the same time losing his one thing that makes him human (Beethoven). Torchwick, however, is being rehabilitated the other direction, into a pawn for chaos as opposed to a pawn for order. In both cases, something fundamental is lost when forcible rehabilitation occurs.**


End file.
